The Last Child of Gallifrey
by sss979
Summary: BOOK ONE OF THE TIME WAR The Doctor is recalled to Gallifrey by President Romana, to face the future he's been running from since he learned his name as a child. Book 5 of the Quiescenary Series
1. Prologue

**Title: **The Last Child of Gallifrey

**Summary: **BOOK ONE OF THE TIME WAR The Doctor is recalled to Gallifrey by President Romana, to face the future he's been running from since he learned his name as a child. Book 5 of the Quiescenary Series

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings: **Adult situations, but nothing explicit.

**A/N:** HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOCTOR! Today is Nov 23, 2013 here in Australia. But the anniversary special does not air until tomorrow, so I don't know yet whether I'll be using John Hurt's Doctor or not; it depends on what Moffat does with it. Luckily I don't have to make that call in order to start posting. This book was cowritten with Thagrrrl79 and can be read as part of the Quiescenary Series or alone, starting from here. In either case, these books about the Time War are going to be a long read, and they're going to get rather dark and bloody in later books.

**A word about canon:** **This story is written with the audience of the 2005-present series in mind, with the utmost respect for Classic and Big Finish fans.** Elements strewn throughout "strict canon" (defined by me as Classic and New TV series AND mainline Big Finish audio dramas) and "sub-canon" (books, comics, etc) are utilized, though sub-canon will not be strictly adhered to. Characters from Series 1 of the Gallifrey series will also be utilized, though events are not.

**PROLOGUE**

"Ready, K-9?"

"Ready, Mistress."

"Begin recording." Closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts, Romana considered her words carefully before she spoke them. Finally, she began in her most authoritative tone. "In response to recent requests made by the Monan Host for military support from Gallifrey in the colonization of the Rapier Galaxy, I would like to extend my deepest -"

"Madame President!"

Startled, Romana looked up from her desk as a man stumbled through the enormous double doors of her office. He nearly fell head over heels as he struggled to regain his balance and come to a stop. He was gasping for breath, as if he had just sprinted to her office from the other side of the Citadel, and his eyes were wide with a look of urgency bordering panic. And he'd interrupted her train of thought by bursting into her office without so much as a knock.

"What is the meaning of -" She stood from her desk, then cast a sideways glance at K-9 before heaving a frustrated sigh. "K-9, stop recording."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Madame President! I'm very sorry, Madame President! But..." He gasped a few times and wiped his brow. "But it's the Visionary!"

"The Visionary?"

Of all the things she had been expecting to hear, a situation with the Visionary had not even made the list. Ordinarily, when the Visionary had something to say - and that wasn't very often - it was hardly a matter of urgency. For the most part, he was not at all a part of daily affairs in the capitol. Induction ceremonies and initiations, the occasional report to the Council if anything about either was questionable. For her part, if Romana needed any information on any of those proceedings, she had it within the Matrix. She'd not spoken to the Visionary in decades, at least.

"What about him?"

"Madame President... He is very... He's very ill." The man was still out of breath. Why he'd not simply called her, she couldn't begin to guess. "I fear he has only moments, and he is at the end of his final regeneration. You must come quickly!"

She blinked, confused. The passing of the Visionary was certainly a matter of some importance, but surely it didn't warrant this sort of panic. Nor did it demand her presence.

"Madame President, please... He says he'll speak only to you... And that it's a matter... of extreme importance. Please, Madame President, he is dying. Please hurry."

She hesitated only a moment more. Then, skirting around the desk, she followed the chancellery guard as he walked briskly out of the room and down the hall. At their quickened pace, it took them only a few minutes to reach their destination. The Visionary's quarters were within the capitol itself, in the northeast wing where most people rarely had a reason to venture. It was that way for a reason. The price of the Visionary's limitless knowledge - his open access to the Matrix without even the safeguards in place that President Romana herself had no choice but to respect - was seclusion. The knowledge he had was dangerous, and as part of the role of his office, he knew that.

"I will speak only to Madame President Romana."

She heard him the moment they stepped through the front door of his living quarters. His voice was weak - dry and scratchy and barely audible. He was lying on the sofa, and beside him, a medical technician rose to her feet.

"Madame President," she greeted with a worried tone. "He is very ill."

"So I see."

"I will speak only to President Romana."

Taking a step closer, she exchanged brief glances with the guards standing by before focusing her attention on the dying man. "I'm here," she said softly. "What is it you want to tell me?"

"Madame President..."

"Yes."

"Please... Come closer."

She hesitated only a moment before sitting down beside him. As she settled, the door behind her opened again, allowing Coordinator Narvin passage into the room. Romana eyed him for a moment, but found no cause to address him before dropping her gaze to the dying man. With a weak, shaky hand, he reached toward her, and she wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing gently.

"I'm here, Lord Visionary. What did you want to tell me?"

Blind and weakened with age and frailty - his last incarnation alone had lived nearly fourteen hundred years, if she remembered correctly - he gripped her hand with bony, knobby fingers as Coordinator Narvin took up position behind her, watching carefully.

"I must speak to you, Madame President," the old man whispered. "It is of vital importance."

"I'm listening."

He drew a few rattling breaths, and coughed weakly before opening his eyes and staring in her direction. But she couldn't be sure if the glassy, unfocused eyes saw her at all.

"You must be ready," he whispered. "The time grows short."

"Time for what?"

"I have seen what is yet to come. In my dreams, in the darkness, I have seen it in these last hours. And you must be ready."

"What do you mean?"

The Visionary took a shaky breath before whispering low, under his breath. "I have seen the darkness and the burning. The flames that burn throughout all time, consuming all that breathes and feels."

"A war, you mean," Narvin interrupted, insensitive to the way the Visionary's voice trembled with fear and the pains of death.

"Narvin, please," Romana chided with a glare. "Let him speak."

"The last war," the old man choked. His grip on her hand was startlingly tight as he gave another weak cough, and a few wheezy breaths. "The war to end all wars. The greatest war of all time."

"When?" Narvin asked. "How? Against whom?"

Romana growled under her breath at the incessant interruption, but the man lying still on the sofa didn't even seem to notice the questions. "Madame President?"

"I'm right here, Lord Visionary."

"Many will die," he whispered. His grip shook for all the strength he was forcing into it. "Billions more will fall into the fire. You will hear them scream, and you will know you cannot save them. Please know you could not save them, Madame President. They have been lost from the beginning, and there was no action you could have taken."

She swallowed hard. Centuries of experience had taught her the difference between superstitious prophecies and the limitless expanse of knowledge locked safe within the Matrix and the minds connected to it. The Visionary walked a fine line between the two - a curious mix of foreshadowing and experience. His words were never prophecy as such, only the detailed explanations and decoding of the elements he understood in a way no other Time Lord could. The essence of a name, a nature; the anticipation of where the current state of affairs would lead. But to hear him say that there was no way to prevent this war he spoke of made little sense. To hear that he gained this knowledge in a dream, well, that made even less.

"You, too, shall die, Romanadvoratrelundar," he whispered. "But your death shall be at the word of the man whose hand you place it in, and no other. You will lay your life down; it shall not be taken from you. When you find yourself dead, do not think it is over. It shall not yet be your time to rest. But when you find your time to rest, when you know that the moment has come, only then you shall be allowed to die, knowing that all is as it should be."

"You said I must be ready," she said quietly, shifting his attention to a topic she was more comfortable with. "How can I? If you say there is nothing I can do to change it, what must I do?"

"In thirty years time shall the war begin," he continued, closing his eyes. In the corners of them, she could see tears forming, dampening his lashes. "But it shall not be your war. Your hearts shall break and bleed, but it shall not be your war."

"Lord Visionary," Narvin said again. "What must we do?"

"I have no reason to know all of this if there's truly nothing I can do to stop it," Romana added.

"When you see the storm brewing, when you feel the sinking in your hearts, you must do only one thing, Madame President." He paused for a long moment, then slowly opened his eyes again, staring past her. "You must seek out the Last Child of Gallifrey."

"The Last Child," she repeated quietly.

"You mean the Doctor," Narvin said with distaste.

The Visionary gave a weak smile as his eyes slid closed again. "Yes."

"Lord Visionary, I couldn't recall the Doctor to Gallifrey even if I wanted to do," Romana reminded him quietly. "He's left this _universe_!"

"He shall return."

"In thirty years?" Narvin demanded, his voice tense. "To cause this war?"

"He is truly alone," the Visionary whispered weakly, ignoring the accusatory question. "As he is the last. For he shall be the one to call fire from the pits of hell. And in that moment, so shall you die." He drew in one last breath and shuddered as he whispered his final words. "So shall you all die, at his hand."

"Then why bring him here?"

There was no answer to Narvin's anxious, angry demand. In the silence that followed, Romana felt the Visionary's grip loosen, his hand falling limp in hers.

"Lord Visionary," Narvin attempted again.

"Do be quiet, Coordinator," Romana ordered softly, setting the old man's hand lightly on his chest. "The Visionary is dead."


	2. Chapter One - Thirty Years Later

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Thirty Years Later**

**(Relative Gallifreyan Time)**

The very first thing the Doctor was aware of was the smell of breakfast, warm and salty. But that wasn't what had woken him up. That was too subtle. What had woken him up was...

"Daddy!"

Five quick footsteps of small bare feet on the floor and the little girl launched herself onto the bed, right on top of him.

"You're home! You're home!"

She was scrambling over the covers, throwing her arms around his neck by the time he opened his eyes. With a quiet laugh, he found his arms from underneath the pile of warm blankets. "Yes, yes, I'm home."

"Yay!"

"You act like you haven't seen me in weeks! I haven't been gone that long."

"Did you bring me something?"

Her eyes were bright and hopeful as she pulled back and bounced a little on her knees. He smiled knowingly. "I might have."

"Oh, may I have it? May I please!"

"It's in my jacket pocket."

She was off the bed again, bounding for the leather jacket that was draped over the nearby chair from the night before. She rifled through the pockets until she pulled out her prize - a small metal cylinder. She held it up, confused but delighted all the same.

"What does it to?"

"Bring it here; I'll show you."

He sat up as she skipped towards him and set the toy in his hand. Holding it out, he pulled the rip cord on the side and three spinning tops fell out of it, onto the floor, sending bright sparks of light and color everywhere. The child squealed with delight, jumping up and down.

"Any chance that toy is going to catch fire to my furniture?" a curious voice from the door asked.

"No, of course not. Harmless." He looked up at the woman and smiled. "Good morning, Charley."

"Good morning, Doctor," she greeted with a smile of her own. "India, your breakfast is ready."

The little girl gathered the pieces of the top and scurried out of the room. The Doctor's eyes followed her, and he smiled. "She's growing so fast."

"Mmm, yes she is." Charley closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes off of the Doctor. "Amazing how that happens when you're gone for weeks at a time."

"Weeks? What do you mean, weeks? I was gone for ten hours!"

"Ten hours?"

"Ten hours, six minutes, and thirty-three seconds, to be precise."

Standing at the side of the bed, she bent down to whisper into his ear. "Two weeks."

"I don't believe..." His answer trailed off as he watched her with interest. She was kneeling on the edge of the bed now, looming over him with a smile. "Have I really been gone for two weeks?"

"Two weeks, Doctor."

"Oh. Well, I suppose I'm in no position to argue. It's much easier to keep track of time here on Earth than it is in the Tardis."

"Yes, and I assure you. It has been two full weeks."

"Hmm. Well, in that case, I think I owe you an apology."

Her smile grew as she straddled him, pinning his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head. "Yes, I think you're right."

"And I suppose you want that apology now?"

"How did you guess?"

He smiled into the slow, teasing kiss as she held him down. He could've taken that kiss anywhere he wanted it to go. Instead, he just enjoyed it. She simply smelled too good, felt too warm, and he'd missed her too much to get caught up in plans and purpose of any kind. What had been two weeks for her had been almost twice as long for him. He had enjoyed his travels; he always did. But it felt good to be home. It felt even better to be missed.

His smile remained as she drew away and stared down at him, blonde hair falling around her face. "Two weeks is forgivable, isn't it?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose that depends on how nicely worded your apology is."

"I am very, very sorry."

She pouted playfully. "Oh, I think you can do better than that."

He shifted, and she moved to lie beside him as he turned, switching places with her. This time, he punctuated each of his words with a soft, warm kiss along her jaw. "I am sorry."

"And?" she teased.

He smiled as he pulled away, looking down at her. "And next time, I'll take you with me."

She laughed. "Oh, don't start that again."

"Start? What makes you think I ever stopped?"

Her smile softened. "You know we can't leave the girls."

"And _you_ know we could be back before we even left."

"Yes, and I also know you meant to be back a week and six days ago."

"Point taken. We'll bring them along."

Another laugh. "Right! Because that went so well last time!"

"No no no, this would be different," he promised quickly, avoiding the topic of "last time". "Someplace perfectly safe."

"You're forgetting, Doctor. I travelled with you for years - two very different incarnations, mind you - and at no time did we _ever _visit a perfectly safe planet."

"Never?"

"No, I can't think of any. Some were certainly safer than others, but perfectly safe? No."

"You poor girl, you need to get out more."

She laughed.

"I mean it! There are thousands of perfectly safe planets out there. Beautiful planets with marvelous sunsets and endless hills of silvery trees and -"

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I accept your apology."

He studied her for a moment. He'd almost forgotten he was supposed to be making an apology. As she smiled, he answered with a smile of his own. And as she relaxed beneath him, he cupped her face and nuzzled her gently, cheek to cheek, before covering her mouth with his.

*X*X*X*

"I take it you've heard the news."

President Romana turned to face Coordinator Narvin and frowned. "Of course I've heard."

"I thought you might have done." He stepped inside the office slowly, closing the door behind him. "Has anyone given you figures yet?"

"No, but I suppose that's what you're here for."

"It wasn't my express intent, but I can do, if you like."

"Please." Romana sat down, took a deep breath, and braced herself.

Narvin hesitated for only a moment before relaying his information, hands clasped behind his back and posture straight in a calm, dignified pose. "There are at least a hundred thousand of them, probably more."

"All Dalek?"

"They've picked up a few stragglers along the way, but for the most part, they're unaided by any other powers."

"Well, that's a relief, at least." Romana sighed. "The last thing we need is to have the greater time powers involved. The Daleks are dangerous enough on their own."

"Luckily, Madame President, most of the notable powers of the universe - time sensitive or not - consider the Daleks more of an enemy than an ally."

"How long do we have?"

"It's difficult to say. Perhaps a few days."

"Days?" She frowned. "Why so long?"

He smirked slightly. "Are you complaining?"

"Certainly not, but I would like to know how you've managed to buy us so much time."

"Me, Madame President? I did nothing of the sort. They're heading toward us through real space rather than the Vortex."

She frowned. There were many things about that she did not understand, and the uncertainty was worrisome. "Do we have any idea why they might be choosing to take the scenic route?"

"Our guess is that they anticipate our ability to stop them within the Vortex. They spent several decades locked inside of it as prisoners; that's not easily forgotten."

"They will still need to move into the Vortex at some point if they intend to get to Gallifrey."

"Yes, though perhaps for a much shorter time. In any case, we've doubled patrols, sealed off all corridors onto our plane but one, and we have ships scouting the Vortex just waiting for them to step over the line."

"And your... operatives? Have they anything to say about how this news is reaching the rest of the universe?"

"Most of the significant powers knew of the mobilization almost as soon as we did. The rumor mill is churning of course, but fortunately, as I said, most of our enemies are also enemies of the Daleks."

"That won't stop them from taking advantage of our weakened state." Romana sighed heavily. "It's never just _one _problem. A Dalek invasion, that's bad enough. But the thought of what that might ultimately mean if our forces are tied up with defending Gallifrey..."

"You're assuming, of course, that this attack fleet will be even marginally successful at weakening us."

"A hundred thousand Dalek ships is nothing to balk at, Coordinator."

"Neither is the transduction barrier."

"And in any case, it's not the number of Daleks I'm worried about."

"Then if I may be so bold, what _are _you worried about, Madame President?"

She hesitated a moment before looking back up at him. "It's been thirty years to the day, Narvin. You remember. You were there."

Narvin paused, weighing his words carefully before he replied. "Yes, I do remember. And that's precisely why I've taken such care to ensure that we are prepared."

"Prepared for _what_, exactly?" she demanded, her voice hard. "The greatest war of all time? Just how, exactly, does one prepare for that?"

"With a great deal of caution."

Romana looked away, and Narvin sighed.

"Madame President, you know as well as I do that a prophecy of doom and gloom is not an inevitability, even when spoken by the Visionary. We are Time Lords; we can correct even the most severe injuries to the Web of Time. Even if the destruction of Gallifrey and the deaths he spoke of were a fixed point, we have every power to change that and correct any damage done. His words were a warning about things that may come if we do not act appropriately. Which, I believe, we have."

"Do you really believe that, Narvin? That there are no inevitabilities?"

"Inevitabilities? With respect, Madame President, I think that's too strong a word to use for the fate of the universe. For Gallifrey. For us."

She hesitated a long moment, then looked back at him pointedly. "And what if you're wrong?"

"What if I am? If this destruction is truly inevitable, nothing we do - by action or omission - will change that fact."

"But you don't believe that," Romana answered, her tone bordering on mockery. "Because Gallifrey could never fall victim to such an unfortunate fate as chaos and destruction."

"Since the Visionary's passing, I have spent countless hours with the Matrix Coordinator surveying any number of divergent timelines. I am completely convinced that Gallifrey is _capable _of being destroyed. But I don't believe it is inevitable."

"And the Matrix Coordinator? What does he have to say about the current state of affairs?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself? You might also ask the Visionary what she thinks about the idea of calling the Doctor, since that seems to be something you're still considering."

Romana raised a brow. "I take it you've already sought her opinion?"

"It's one of a number of things we've discussed."

"And has her input made any influence on your opinion?"

Narvin paused before he spoke. When he finally did, it was with an air of detached calm that suited his relaxed posture.

"My predecessors have long considered the Doctor an asset to the CIA. Personally, I think they were absolutely and invariably wrong. The man is a renegade Time Lord. He's heaped shame and disgrace on us from the very beginning and is guilty of genocide and Rassilon knows what else. He spent twenty years in the Divergent Universe as the embodiment of anti-time and he's set up house on a level three planet with half-human children. I would sooner see him dead than paraded around as the crutch that supports Gallifrey in her time of need."

Romana smiled knowingly. "Well, you certainly didn't need the Visionary to help you come to that conclusion."

"No. I did not."

He paused for a moment as Romana stood and turned to the window, gazing out at the structures of the Citadel, bright and shining in the morning sunlight. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and began again.

"You still intend to call him, don't you?"

"With the Council's consent, yes."

"Under the circumstances, I would be surprised if they didn't give it."

"As would I."

"And then what? You'll be needing my assistance to get him here?"

"Not at all." She glanced back at Narvin. "I'll simply ask him to come."

Narvin raised a brow, amused. "And if he refuses?"

"He won't."

"Are you quite certain of that?"

"Yes. Quite."

"Well, I suppose you would know."

Romana's look was hard as she turned suddenly and fixed him in her stare. "I'm not sure I know what you mean by that," she challenged.

"Nothing at all, Madame President," Narvin replied tactfully. "But please remember, the Doctor is a renegade. He hasn't been too willing to come to Gallifrey's aid before."

"Those were very different circumstances, Narvin."

"Were they?"

He raised a brow as he studied her, perfectly poised and infused with all the authority of her office. He'd never liked her much, and he fundamentally disagreed with nine-tenths of her administrative decisions. But he had always respected her office, if not her character.

"What makes this different?" he challenged.

"Because this time, Coordinator," she looked up and gave another deep, heartfelt sigh before finishing, "I'll ask him myself."


	3. Chapter Two - Called Home

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Called Home**

Charley smiled as she heard the delighted shrieks of two young girls over the sound of the waves and opened her eyes to watch them. Playing in the ocean, chasing and laughing and flailing, she wasn't sure which child was enjoying themselves more - the three year old, the eight year old, or the eight hundred and ninety two year old. She chuckled at that thought, tipping her face away from the sun overhead.

"Oi! Be careful!"

Holding three-year-old India by one arm and one leg, with Julia holding tightly to his neck from behind, the Doctor looked up as a particularly tall wave came and nearly bowled them all over.

"They can't swim, you know!"

"Well, no better time to learn!"

"I can so swim!"

She rolled her eyes, but relaxed again, lying back on the oversized beach towel and soaking in the warm sun. A lot had changed over the past four years, since the Doctor had shown up in her life again. But one thing she knew would never change; he would never allow any harm to come to those girls. His restlessness kept him moving, god-knows where, across the universe. But he always came back. And as much as he teased and enticed her with the retelling of his present adventures, as much as she knew he missed her company on those adventures and as much as she missed having them, there was no question to either of them that the safety and stability the children required took a greater priority.

For now.

She opened one eye as a shadow fell over her, focusing just in time to watch him flop down beside her. "Tired already?"

He smiled knowingly at her and reached for the bottle of water nearby. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girls, hand in hand, heading toward the jungle gym. "I think I'm a bit tall for the design of that playground," the Doctor finally answered. "And besides, you look terriblybored over here."

She laughed. "Do you think?"

He turned onto his back and lay with an arm under his head, his other hand resting loosely on his chest. His fingers were absently tracing scars as he stared up at the sky. She followed his movements with a soft, knowing smile. Those scars were so old - decades or centuries, she knew she wouldn't be able to tell the difference. But she remembered those scars. The mark of a sword, plunged between his hearts, the stab of a dagger a bit lower. The shallow little cuts and knicks and marks - and a few that were not so shallow - from a darkened dungeon, manacled to the wall...

"What are you thinking?" he asked, not looking at her.

She smiled knowingly. "You mean you're not going to poke around in my head and find out for yourself?"

"No. Why? Would you like me to?"

"Not particularly."

"Tell me then."

He opened one eye in the silence that followed, shielding his face from the sun with his hand as he studied her curiously. With a soft smile, she leaned down and kissed his lips lightly before cutting her eyes toward the scars under his fingers.

"I was just thinking... Those scars."

"What about them?"

"I remember when you got them."

"Yes, so do I. Eleventh century dungeon, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, at the hand of Grayle the immortal."

"Aspiring immortal, anyway." He gave her another curious look. "Why are you thinking about him?"

"I was just remembering..." She smiled as she reached out and traced the thin lines, then the deeper scar of a stab wound he endured on the same evening. "I think that was the moment I fell in love with you."

He laughed. "Well, I'm glad you remember it so fondly!"

"When you told me to close my eyes."

"What?"

Her smile softened. "He was threatening _you_ with a sword, and you were more concerned about me. You said to me, 'Close your eyes, Charley.' And the way you lost your temper when he scratched me with his sword..."

"Hmm."

"I don't know what you felt, how significant it was to you. But I know that I loved you in that moment."

He reached up and pushed a hand back through her hair before pulling her closer and kissing her brow. As she withdrew, her eyes immediately and instinctively scanned for the children. Once she found them both - playing in the sand - she relaxed again, propping her head up on her arm and leaving her other hand on his chest. For a few minutes, he was quiet. Then, suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

"What?" she asked.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That hum. Listen."

She listened.

"Doctor, I don't hear anything."

He sat up, looked around, but didn't move. "Sounds like... it's coming closer."

She scanned their surroundings, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. "I can't hear any -"

By the time she heard it, all she had time to do was gasp in surprise before it was right on top of them. "It" turned out to be a palm-sized glowing cube, hovering near the Doctor almost as if it were sentient, and curious.

"Ah, there you are."

Eyes wide, Charley watched as he took the cube in his hands, pulling it closer carefully. "What is it?" she asked as he set it in his lap. Though still glowing, it was no longer levitating.

"Sort of a mail carrying system," he explained calmly. "It's stamped with my bio-print and basically hurtled into the Time Vortex in the general direction of wherever I'm thought to be. Then, like a magnet, it's drawn to wherever I am."

"Oh. So who's it from?"

"Well, judging by the fact that it's Time Lord technology, I'm going to say it's from the Time Lords."

She frowned. "And that's not good, is it?"

"Well, let's not jump to conclusions."

He closed his eyes as he rested his hands on either side of the box. The glow slowly died as he seemed to absorb whatever energy fueled it. Curious, she watched him as the box dimmed until it looked very much like an ordinary translucent white box. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes and stared for a moment into space.

"Well?" she prodded when he didn't share.

"I'm being recalled to Gallifrey," he said quietly, seriously.

"Oh." She smiled. "Well, that's not so bad. At least this time they sent you a nice little box instead of Tardis warships or whatever it was that hijacked us in the Time Vortex last time."

He glanced sideways at her. His look was too serious for her liking.

"What? What's wrong?"

He shook his head as he turned away. "No, it's nothing."

"Well, if it's nothing, then tell me."

"They've requested that I come right away."

"First thing in the morning, then."

"Well, that is one definition of 'right away'. Though I don't think that's quite the one they had in mind."

"What, you mean now? Right now? As in, race home so you can leave again?"

His expression was answer enough.

"Oh, but Doctor, it's a time machine. What difference does it make? Besides, you just got back!"

"You could always come with me."

She glared. "That's not funny, Doctor."

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

As he rose to his feet, she followed right behind. "At least spend the night. You need to sleep anyway before you go rushing off to god-knows-where."

"Gallifrey," he specified as he bent to collect the oversized beach towels.

"Yes, but whatever they want you for, I'm pretty sure it's not to share an afternoon tea."

He turned to glance at her. "What do you want me to do, ignore them?"

"No, of course not. I want you to stay _one _night in your own bed before you run off again and..." She hesitated a moment as she lowered her eyes. "And I might not see you again for another two weeks."

He sighed. "Charley, that was a simple error. And one I'll not make again."

"Yes, I know, but I've _missed_ you." She looked up at him again. "And so have the girls. Will one night really make so much difference?"

"That depends on the reason for the urgency."

"Well, isn't it a time machine, after all? What's to say you couldn't stay a week and arrive in five minutes?"

He smiled knowingly. "It can't go back on Gallifreyan time."

"Oh fine, then, let them wait. Lord knows they wouldn't think twice about making _you _wait if it came to that."

He studied her quietly as she took a step closer, and found his hand with hers.

"Please. One night is all I'm asking."

He watched her, then glanced over his shoulder and watched the girls for a moment longer. Charley smiled to herself. The thought of explaining to them that he had to leave again would give him pause. They would melt him; they always did. All she had to do was squeeze his hand and wait patiently.

"Alright," he relented as he turned back to her. "I'll wait until morning to leave."

***X*X*X***

"Have you heard from him?"

Leela hadn't realized Romana was asleep at her desk until she jumped, startled, and sat up straight. She'd looked like she was only holding her head, maybe coaxing a headache away. She certainly had enough of those lately. Leela had watched, and had given her as much space as was wise while she waited for answers. But the answers she had received in the end had only brought more questions. The Doctor was coming. No one could - or _would_, rather - tell her why.

"Heard from who?" Romana asked, momentarily disoriented.

"From the Doctor."

"Oh." She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, raising her fingers to her forehead again. This time, she was definitely massaging away a headache. "No. I haven't."

Leela nodded her understanding as she stood beside the desk. "He will come."

"Will he?" Romana gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm not sure I would, in his position."

"Then I am glad you are not him."

Romana's smile turned more real as she dropped her hand.

Leela smiled back, reassuringly. "Give him time," she said. "He is the Doctor. He will come."

"What would I do without you to keep my hopes up, Leela?"

"Well, it is good to know I am still of some use to you."

Romana raised a brow at the self-deprecating tone. Although she was a Time Lord, Romana was not stupid. She paid attention to people more than most of her kind. She understood that there was more unsaid in the statement than was said.

"Is something wrong?"

Leela nodded, grateful to finally breach the topic. "Yes. You have still not explained what danger we are facing." She came closer, watching Romana with a worried expression. "I am your bodyguard and your friend. And yet I do not know why you have not slept in so many nights. Why you so rarely leave your office. Is it not important that I know these things?"

Romana sighed. "I'm sorry, Leela. I've been so busy..."

"What keeps you busy? What troubles you so much that you are again calling the Doctor? You swore you would not do so again."

"Well, needs must."

Another deep sigh, and Romana looked up at the guards posted inside the door. They had not been her idea, but Coordinator Narvin had insisted. She still wasn't entirely sure whether it was to keep danger out or to keep her in.

"Please shut the door," she ordered them. "And with you on the other side of it, if you don't mind."

"Yes, Madame President."

A moment later, they were gone. Leela sat down on top of the desk, legs folded in front of her, more comfortable in the presence of only Romana and their two K-9 units than she had been with the other Time Lords in the room. And she listened.

There were dark days ahead. As a warrior of the Sevateem, she was not the least bit alarmed by the onset of war. But the war Romana was describing was something far bigger than anything she had previously imagined. The Daleks were invading. Leela knew the Daleks from her days of travelling with the Doctor. She had also been on Gallifrey during the first Dalek invasion, years ago. They were machines of war. And if the Visionary was to be believed, they would not only invade Gallifrey, but countless other worlds.

"I do not understand. Who is this Visionary? He is one of your elders?"

"Of sorts, yes."

Romana paused, probably not sure if Leela would understand. She always seemed to get that look in her eye when she was unsure of how much she wanted to explain. But Leela was not stupid, and Romana knew that. She waited, and finally, Romana explained.

"It is a title held by an appointed official until the time of his or her death. The Visionary has full access to the Matrix - the ability to symbiotically link to it, in fact, the way a Time Lord does to his or her Tardis. Once a Visionary dies, rather than having their consciousness stored within the APCnet, it integrates as part of the Matrix structure itself, and becomes one of the coordinating minds used to structure the timelines."

Leela frowned."This Visionary is a computer?"

Romana laughed. "No, Leela. The Visionary is a man or woman who spent at least one hundred years as Matrix Coordinator and was chosen at the death of the previous Visionary to carry on the position."

"I see."

Leela did not really see. But she was tired of big words and complex explanations. She had lived for decades - centuries? - among the Time Lords, and she still only understood a fraction of what they said when they spoke. And she only believed a fraction of what she understood. It was safer that way. Romana was quite likely the only one among them who was actually honest. Well... and the Doctor, if he could properly be considered a Time Lord. There were many things about him that were very different from the rest of his people.

"You believe this Visionary can tell the future?" Leela asked, curiously.

"In a way, yes. There is a fine line between past, present, and future for a Time Lord. The future is simply that which we cannot yet see. But the Visionary... With total access to the Matrix, predictions about the future are a matter of science, not superstition."

"And this is why you need the Doctor. Because the Matrix computer predicts that this war will destroy Gallifrey, and the Visionary warned you of this."

"I suppose that's one way of putting it, yes." Romana sighed. "Mind you, I haven't the faintest idea what I'm going to _say _to him once he arrives. He's been away for a very long time now. He has a wife and a family."

"Family?" Leela's eyes grew wide. "The Doctor has a family?"

"Two little girls." Romana smiled. "Although only one of them is biologically his own and even that is a fairly well guarded secret."

"The High Council does not know?"

"They know. But it would create more of a spectacle to intervene than to leave him be. Besides, you know the Doctor. After all he's been through, to add one more insult to injury... He's old enough and experienced enough now to create a lot of trouble for Gallifrey if he chose to do. It was very easy to convince them that he was better off left in peace. Of course, now that some of the Council are concerned that his involvement may be to our detriment, it puts me in the precarious situation of having to backtrack over many of my warnings."

"What warnings?"

"Well, it's true enough that he could cause a lot of problems. But I never meant to imply that he may be more of a threat than a help in time of need. The Council is... concerned."

"The Doctor would never do anything to harm us."

"Well, the Visionary did rather imply that the Doctor would be responsible for damning us all. It's not surprising that the Council is a bit wary of him."

Leela frowned. "And what does the new Visionary say?"

"She doesn't. She refuses to speak on the matter."

"I see."

"There's to be a meeting in the morning, to discuss the lengths we are to go to if he will not come willingly. But I suspect the discussion will be rather moot. If he doesn't respond willingly to our call, I won't even have a leg to stand on."

"And what... leg would you stand on?" Leela asked, repeating the phrase with some hesitation. "Do you believe we will win this war without him?"

"I don't know." Romana sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I don't even know what I'm going to say to him. He's not a soldier, not a warrior."

"Perhaps he can somehow prevent the war from even starting. He is good at that."

"Perhaps." Romana forced a smile, then leaned forward again, holding her head. It had been a long time since she had looked so exhausted.

"You should sleep," Leela said.

"I know. But," she gestured to the papers on the side of the desk opposite where Leela was sitting, "I have far too much to do. Day to day matters don't stop or even slow down just because of a Dalek invasion."

"Can I help?"

Romana's smile turned a bit more genuine, but she shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Leela."

Leela nodded as she stood to her feet. She gave another tight but reassuring smile. "If you need me, I will help in any way I can."

"Thank you," Romana answered sincerely.

"Come on, K-9. Let's go home."

"Mistress!"

Romana smiled faintly, waiting until Leela and her K-9 unit left the room before leaning forward and resting her head on her crossed arms.


	4. Chapter Three - Partnerships

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Partnerships**

Charley heard the bathroom door open and shut, but the Doctor didn't greet her. He'd been deep in thought for most of the evening, brooding and wearing that fake smile of his. The "everything's okay" smile that had never convinced her, not even when she'd barely known him. It didn't convince her now. And now, she liked it even less than she had back then.

Shutting off the shower and pushing her hands back through her hair, she took her time forming her words as she heard him at the sink. Then she grabbed her towel off the rack on the wall, just outside the curtain, and wrapped it around her before stepping out.

"Did I tell you India is reading now?"

"No, I don't think so," he answered in his best innocent voice.

"I'm beginning to think you might be right about her not fitting in at school here. Seeing as she's only three years old and reading chapter books almost as well as Julia."

"I told you there may very well be developmental effects. She may have only one heart, but she's genetically imprinted with my DNA as much as yours."

"Best of both worlds," Charley teased.

"Hopefully."

He wasn't teasing back. His tone and his look remained serious as he finished washing his face and reached for the towel to dry it. Standing on her tip toes behind him, she slid her arms around his waist and tipped her chin up to look at him in the mirror, over his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Doctor?"

"Yes, of course I am."

"Oh, of course you are," she repeated with a roll of her eyes and a smile. "So does that mean you're going to tell me what they wanted?"

"What who wanted?"

"In your little glowing box."

"I told you, they want me to come back to Gallifrey."

"Yes, but what else did they say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing as in _nothing _or nothing as in you don't want to tell me?"

"Nothing as in I wish they'd said more." He turned to face her and she stepped back. "Believe it or not, Charley, I don't exactly like getting vague 'come hither' summons from the Time Lords. It never ends well."

She smiled. "Well, after what happened last time, who could blame you?"

"Exactly."

He turned away, and she grabbed her dirty clothes up off of the bathroom floor before following him.

"Though, to be fair, last time was hardly a 'come hither'," she continued, prodding carefully. "More like a 'come immediately or we'll blow you out of the Time Vortex with both barrels.'"

"Now you're just being facetious."

"Well, it's what they did."

She closed the door to the bedroom behind her as he sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. What he wasn't saying spoke much louder than what he was.

"So is she still president?" Charley prodded carefully. "Your friend, Romana?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"Good. I like her."

"Do you?"

Charley pulled the towel from around her to ruffle her hair with it, then dried her shoulders. "She was one of the few people there I felt like I could trust."

"Probably because she _was _one of the few people there you could trust."

"Now who's being facetious?"

"Hardly," he said dryly, ignoring her as she hung the towel on the back of the door. "I've spent far too many years with the Time Lords to trust _any _of them save the few I know intimately."

"Intimately," she teased, casting him a smile before slipping the oversized T-shirt over her head. "Should I be jealous?"

"Of what?"

"Your 'intimate relations' with Lady President Romana?"

"Are you?"

"No."

She shivered at the breeze from the fan overhead, and turned it off before walking to the dresser, removing her stud earrings. She knew he'd stood, and watched him out of the corner of her eye as he stepped closer, pulling her wet hair aside and setting a soft, warm kiss on her neck, just below her jaw line.

"Quite right, too."

She smiled. It had sure taken long enough to get his attention. He really _was_ distracted. "I could pretend to be jealous if you think it might make the evening more interesting."

"Is that your way of saying you're bored with me?"

"Well, no, but after two weeks of celibacy," she turned to face him, slipping her arms around his neck, "you'd better have a trick or two up your sleeve."

His smile broadened as he leaned down and pressed his mouth to her ear, pulling her lobe between his teeth teasingly. "You know me, Charley. I _always _have a trick or two up my sleeve."

***X*X*X***

"Madame President, please tell me that you have _slept _since the last time I saw you."

Romana looked away from the window at the man who'd stepped through the doors with plenty of confidence but little flourish. He'd learned long ago that her appreciation for fanfare was minimal at best. And she was glad for that. Right now, she had little patience for it.

"I've slept enough," she lied.

He dismissed the guards with an authoritative nod, closed the doors behind them, and approached with a vague, unreadable look. "I wouldn't believe that even if you _hadn't _spent the night in your office. Again."

It was at times like this, when he stood there with a look that was impossible to read unless he chose to reveal his inner thoughts and motives, that she was very glad Braxiatel was on her side and not her opponents' - political or otherwise. As her most trusted advisor and her second in command, she knew him better than most and yet sometimes she still felt like she hardly knew him at all. What she did know was that he was cunning and unpredictable, and perhaps even a bit dangerous.

Perhaps those were genetic traits; he was of the same family house as the Doctor. Like the Doctor, he also had a tendency to play a bit fast and loose with the rules when the occasion called for it. But he had long ago proven to her that he was trustworthy. Even if he held his cards impossibly close to his chest, and his conscience followed a very different rule of law than the Doctor's and even her own, Romana knew that his loyalty to Gallifrey and to her would never be in question. And his reliability as an advisor and a friend was equally constant.

"Is the High Council assembled?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, and eagerly awaiting your announcement."

She laughed without humor. "Dare I ask how you know there is anything at all to announce?"

"I heard... a rumor."

She sighed. "Honestly, I don't even know why I bother with formal announcements at all. Information travels down the grapevine even faster than it crosses my desk."

He stopped beside her, eyeing the steaming mug in her hands. She'd developed a taste for coffee when she'd travelled with the Doctor. Hundreds of years later, she still found herself craving it in the mornings, whether she'd slept or not.

"If it's any consolation to you, I know only because I was the first person Coordinator Narvin saw when he left traffic control. His very vocal opinion on the Doctor was hard to ignore."

"Yes, I imagine it would be." She paused, and turned to look at Braxiatel. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About the Doctor."

He hesitated a moment, weighing his words the way he always did before he made a judgment call. "The Doctor is of little interest to me. Whether he is here or not makes little difference as far as I'm concerned."

"In other words, you have no opinion."

"No, I didn't say that."

"Your opinion, then?"

"In the years since he last set foot on Gallifrey - at least in any _official _capacity - the Doctor has been recast as something of a folk hero."

"And not without reason. He did exile himself to an alternative universe to protect Gallifrey."

"Your approval ratings will hardly suffer if you bring him back as the public face of encouragement to the people. He is useful, in that sense. And if it makes the people feel better - if it makes _you _feel better, Madame President - to have him here, then by all means bring him."

"And this supposed threat he may pose?"

"Gallifrey is more than equipped to defend herself against the Daleks. The only thing his presence here will change is a bit more footwork for the CIA as they attempt to skirt around him and keep him out of the way. And that, Madame President, is a small price to pay for your peace of mind."

She laughed quietly. "Only you would dare to be so patronizing and yet so damned congenial."

"You did ask my opinion."

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"And while we're on the topic, if I may offer one small piece of advice?"

"By all means."

"Be very careful of how your inclusion of a renegade folk hero is perceived by the Council. Unlike the general population, the Council is already wary of him. If Narvin is willing to share his information with them, and I suspect he will do, then their opinion may well turn against _you_ as well as the Doctor. Particularly if the Doctor, in his typical fashion, is eager to goad them into unnecessary hostility."

"And if by chance Narvin is right, if that energy signature _does _belong to the Doctor..."

"As I understand it, there is no coordinating information within the Matrix to support Narvin's suspicion that it does."

"Oh, I know that. Believe me, I looked. But must there really be proof?"

"They didn't overrule your decision to summon him. But you are wise to consider that their minds may change when they find out what we know now."

She took a deep breath. "I suppose I will just have to reiterate the fact that right now, we have only speculation, and the words of the Visionary. And nobody is in any hurry to confirm _that_."

"Indeed. To admit that the Visionary was right about the Doctor would be paramount to admitting that we are on the brink of the greatest war of all time."

"I dare say even Narvin would be loathe to admit that."

"Popular opinion is in your favor, Madame President. For now. Use it wisely. And deal very carefully with the Council. Your alliances - politically and otherwise - will determine the amount of authority you retain with them, to say nothing of the advantage you are able to gain over the Daleks."

She frowned. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Coordinator Narvin may not be your greatest supporter, but he has made relatively few mistakes in his career. He has the background and experience of a military man even if he chose to abandon that position in favor of an appointment to the CIA. And he has connections. Quite a lot of them, in fact. I've seen his network - how many people he has operating all across the universe at any given point in time and space. He knows things about the Daleks, about New Skaro, about their technological advancements, that all of our speculation could not surmise. He has eyes on the inside. And he is better equipped than any of us to defend Gallifrey against the Daleks. Certainly better than the Doctor."

"Yes," Romana answered flatly. "So he's said."

"The Doctor may be your friend, but he is not your savior. And you would not be the first president to face an opportunistic coup if the Council feels you are relying more heavily on a renegade than the man who is clearly equipped for the job."

Braxiatel fell silent, watching her as she sipped her coffee and looked back out at the second sunrise. Though the Council was assembled, she was hardly running late. The meeting had been set for almost an hour from now. She had plenty of time to finish her drink. Finally, she sighed.

"Do you think I'm risking too much, Braxiatel?" sheasked quietly. "Calling him here..."

"Tell me this, Romana. Would you handle this any differently if not for the Visionary's prophecy?"

She paused for a long moment. "I don't know. I suppose I'd be less willing to call on the Doctor."

"_Less _willing?" he asked, startled. "Why?"

"I told him I wouldn't," she said quietly, solemnly. "I told him I'd never call on him again. In a way, I suppose I'm calling on him to fulfill the last request of a dying man."

"Hmm." Braxiatel frowned deeply.

"He's not a soldier, Brax." She glanced at him with a solemn expression. "If he has a part to play in this war, it's a part of him I've never seen. And I'm not sure it's one I'm going to like."

"Then why call him at all?"

"Because he's the Doctor."

"Meaning?"

"He's the ultimate unconventional thinker. If anyone can stop this from happening..."

Braxiatel was studying her curiously. "I see. A prophecy of your own, then, unrelated to the Visionary's warning that he would be the one to kill us all."

"The Doctor is not a villain."

"Neither is he a hero. And certainly not in the sense that the legends would have us believe."

She glanced up at him curiously. "You disapprove, don't you?"

"As I said, I have no personal opinion of the Doctor."

"But your _professional _opinion is one of disapproval."

He smiled tightly. "It's a small price to pay."

She rolled her eyes as she looked away again. "Yes, for my peace of mind. I heard you."

"You realize, of course, that he will not be so cooperative when he realizes that this is less a cry for help than a tactical maneuver to protect ourselves against him."

"I never said that," Romana said firmly.

Braxiatel nodded slightly. "With the greatest of respect, Madame President, perhaps you should have done. In light of this new information, if he does make it to Gallifrey, it would be very unwise to permit him to leave again."

She sighed. "Presidents and councils and tribunals have been trying to ground that man for much longer than I've been alive. Do you honestly think I would be successful in confining him to Gallifrey, even if I was willing to do?"

"I think you would be wise to try. Or at least, let it appear that you have tried."

"Yet another thing to increase the tension." She sighed deeply. "The more I think about it, Braxiatel, the more I wonder if I did the right thing in asking him to come."

"If you have any thoughts of changing your mind, Madame President, you should do it quickly. Once he arrives, he becomes a part of events whether he ought to be or not. There will be no undoing it."

She didn't answer. After a long pause, she glanced up again. "You never answered my question," she pointed out. "If you think I'm taking too great a risk. In light of the Visionary's words..."

He smiled tightly. "Since when have you needed my approval to make your decisions?"

"I don't need it. But I certainly do value it."

Braxiatel sighed deeply and lowered his voice as he stepped in closer. His tone was comforting as he spoke again - not as a subordinate to his president but as her trusted friend. "Romana, if that prophecy is true, then it matters very little what you, or I, _or_ the Doctor do."

"Since when have _you_, of all people, been a fatalist?"

"Hardly. But I understand how the Web of Time corrects itself. And how _we _will be forced to correct it if it is damaged beyond the point of self-repair."

She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath as she let those words settle into silence. The silence lingered for a long moment before she finally looked up at him again.

"May I ask you something, Brax? Off the record?"

"Of course."

She studied him, calm and cool. She had mastered the art of remaining composed under pressure long ago. It would serve her well in the days to come.

"You're regularly in contact with your other incarnations - breaking any number of the laws of time to do so, I might add. To say nothing of the laws of Gallifrey."

He nodded slightly as she paused. "You've known that for a long time, Madame President."

"All of the versions of yourself that you've met," she continued, "have you ever known any of them that existed from a time beyond this point?"

"Of course."

"During the war?"

He hesitated. She knew the answer. She knew why he was uncomfortable about answering. "Yes, during the war."

"What about after the war?"

He didn't answer her. He didn't have to do. She couldn't read his reaction, but she knew her point was made. Braxiatel knew more about his own future than any Time Lord should. So too did Romana, if the Visionary was to be believed. Brax may not have known the manner of his death the way Romana did, but he must have known the approximate time frame; it was fairly simple to work out. She wasn't sure which was worse: knowing how or knowing when...

Braxiatel let the silence linger for a moment, then stood straight. "We should go," he finally said. "There's no reason to keep them waiting."

She smiled tightly as she finished her coffee, and turned to set the empty mug on her desk. "I suppose I should extend my personal invitation to Coordinator Narvin before I go," she said with a sigh. "The Council is going to have a lot of questions, and I think he'll be much better equipped to answer them than I."

"Then, in that case, it might be very wise."

***X*X*X***

"Satisfied?"

Charley smiled and snuggled closer, setting a gentle, closed kiss on the soft pressure point just below the Doctor's ear before whispering, "Do you really have to ask?"

His arm circled her, holding her close to him as he rested his head against hers. The room seemed a bit warm now. She was wishing she'd left the ceiling fan on. But she was far too comfortable now to even think of getting out of this bed.

"Charley?"

"Mmm... yes, Doctor?"

He was quiet for a moment, hesitating. When he did finally answer her, his voice was soft and serious. "Come with me."

"Hmm... where?"

"To Gallifrey."

She pushed back the edges of sleep that were crouching in on her and stretched a bit before sliding her arm across his chest. "Doctor, we've been over this, remember?"

"No, we haven't."

"We most certainly have."

"I've teased, I've suggested, I've enticed, but I've never sincerely, properly asked."

His tone was completely serious. And as he pulled away enough to tip her chin up, she saw the same seriousness in his eyes.

"Come with me," he said again, earnestly.

She frowned. "You're serious."

"Yes, I'm very serious."

"But why?"

He hesitated, then sighed. "I don't know what the Time Lords want, but I know that if they're willing to call me and _ask _me to come, they want it badly. It's humbling, you see - far more so than chasing me down with time scoops and torpedoes - but they want my compliance. They want my _willing _compliance, and Romana knows me; she knows exactly how to get it. Just ask."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Because, Charley, it puts me in a position to bargain."

"Bargain? For what?"

"For you. For all of you. To live on Gallifrey."

She frowned, confused. "Why would we want to live on Gallifrey?"

"Well, there's a lot of reasons you'd want to live on Gallifrey. Schooling, for one."

Charley's eyes widened. "You want Julia to go to your special school for Time Lords?"

"She'll have a rough go of it, but with a tutor, she could do it."

"Isn't that, you know, against the law or something?"

"The law was changed years ago - Romana's doing, I should think - allowing foreign peoples entrance into the Academy. You hear things through the grapevine and from what I understand, there's even professors from different species now. They would allow Julia. And when she's old enough, they would allow India. The girls could have the exact same education I did and if either of them wanted to do, they could influence the science or culture or politics of the entire universe."

"But Doctor, you said once that you went to school for fifty years. That's most of our lives!"

"No, it's not."

She stared, again confused. "It's not?"

"Not on Gallifrey, Charley. The Time Lords have the power and the technology to sustain human life almost indefinitely, barring outside forces."

Her eyes widened. "Indefinitely?"

"They've done it for Leela. And if I make it a condition of helping them with whatever it is they want now, they would do it for you. For all of you."

She stared, stunned by the mere concept of an indefinite lifespan. It was more than her mind could even comprehend at first.

"What do you...?"

He smiled softly, reassuringly. "I told you, Charley. Forever is a very long time when you live in my world."

"Yes, but... Why haven't you ever told me this before?"

"Because, Charley, I've never had an opportunity like this before now. I've been biding my time until they had a request that would give me something to bargain with."

"And what is their request? What do they want?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"Well, what if it's something impossible? What if it's dangerous?"

"If they're calling me, I can pretty much guarantee it's both."

She looked away with a frown.

"But you know me, Charley; you know I won't turn them down. That's not the question. The question is..." He slid a finger under her chin again and tipped her face back toward him, studying her in earnest as he repeated his question again. "Will you come with me?"


	5. Chapter Four - Arrival

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Arrival**

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

The tone was one that a displeased parent might use with a naughty child who ought to know better. It made the Doctor smile as he stepped forward, out of the Tardis and into the berthing bay of the Capitol.

"Madame President," he greeted warmly. "Of course I was going to come; did you really have any doubt?"

She smiled, faintly but genuinely. "It's good to see you again, Doctor."

"And you. And K-9!"

"Master!"

"What a welcoming party!" the Doctor exclaimed, amazed as he looked around at the small crowd that was gathered, watching him. "Half the council is here. Braxiatel! It's been too long."

"Not long enough under ordinary circumstances," Braxiatel answered flatly.

"Well, if that's the way you're going to be, I might remind you that you are the ones who summoned me, not the other way around. Hello, Leela."

"Welcome, Doctor."

"You all remember Charley?"

A half step behind the Doctor, Charley stepped out of the Tardis and nodded respectfully to Romana. "Madame President."

Romana hesitated a moment, caught off guard by the sight of the woman, then finally managed an answering smile. "Hello, Charley."

"This is Julia, and the little one there is India," the Doctor continued, introducing his daughters - who were both playing shy behind their mother - to the small crowd that had gathered to greet them. "I didn't think it'd be too much trouble if I brought them along."

The only one among them who was unfamiliar to the Doctor was glaring cold daggers at him. But at the same time, the man was doing his best to keep a passive expression on his narrow, long face. He was, for the most part, succeeding. As Romana looked back up at the Doctor, she caught the gaze that passed between them and rolled her shoulders back.

"Doctor, this is Coordinator Narvin of the Celestial Intervention Agency."

"Ah, thanks for the warning."

Narvin faked a full smile and nodded in greeting. "I'm afraid we've never had the pleasure of meeting," he said with the strictest of Gallifreyan formality. "It was my predecessor, Coordinator Vansell, who was head of the CIA when last you visited Gallifrey."

"Yes, I was there when he died."

Both Charley and Romana tensed just slightly at the flicker that passed between the two predestined enemies. The Doctor was no friend of the CIA, nor were they terribly approving of him. It was an animosity that stretched back for generations, manifest in candid jabs and tones of dissent and disgust under the smiles and niceties of the two parties. The Doctor, for all that he hated the ritual formality and superiority complex of his own people, one towards another, could still play their game with expert ease when he chose to do. And it was simply the safest way to handle the CIA.

"But it was actually Straxus who held the office last time I was dragged back to Gallifrey," the Doctor continued. "You appear to have much better manners than he did. Thanks for that, by the way. A polite request is always so much nicer than a time scoop."

"But not as effective, apparently," Narvin answered coolly.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"A full three days later."

"I got your summons only yesterday. I can't help it if your delivery system leaves something to be desired."

"And you chose not only to delay, but to bring human children with you?"

"Well, to be fair, only Julia is fully human."

"Oh, we are well aware."

"Gentlemen..." Romana warned, leaving the two of them to size each other up in silence. She turned her attention to the two little girls, peeking from behind their mother. "It's very nice to meet you both. My name is Romana, and you are most welcome here."

Julia stepped forward timidly and offered a hand, which Romana shook. "Are you the president?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Romana answered. "I am the president."

"{It is very nice to meet you, Madame President.}"

Romana's eyes widened slightly - not at the words, but rather the language in which they were spoken. Had the child spoken English, Romana would have heard English; after all, she knew that language. Instead, she'd spoken in flawless Gallifreyan. Romana's look of surprise turned to a full smile as she answered in kind, then stood to face the Doctor.

"You've been busy."

The Doctor only smiled.

"Unfortunately, we have very little time, and certainly no facilities to keep your family occupied," Braxiatel said. "Perhaps it would be best if they stayed in the Tardis."

"Oh, what would be the fun in that?" he cried. "Besides, I've already made arrangements. Give me an hour or so to take them to Lady Modena and I'll return to deal with whatever urgencies you have on the docket for today."

"You misunderstood me, Doctor," Braxiatel said flatly. "When I said we have very little time, I meant precisely that."

"Leela?" Romana interrupted, turning her attention to her personal bodyguard. "Please escort Ms. Pollard and her children to Lady Modena."

"Now, wait a minute -"

"Doctor..." The hard look in Romana's eyes spoke much louder than her tone. "Please. Allow Leela."

The Doctor, caught off guard by the urgency, stared at her for a moment before his brow furrowed with worry. What trouble had they gotten into now? He'd known it was serious for Romana to call on him to help - something she'd sworn she would never do again. But he hadn't expected to be prodded along like this.

Charley's hand on his arm startled him, and he glanced at her. "We'll be fine, Doctor," she assured with a smile. "I'm actually quite excited to meet your mother. I'm sure she'll have plenty of fascinating stories to keep me and the girls busy."

He hesitated a moment more before leaning in closer, dropping his head as he whispered, "Be careful. Keep the children close and don't wander away from Leela."

She chuckled quietly and kissed his cheek modestly. "Yes, I quite know how trouble seems to follow you around, Doctor."

He cast a quick glance at Leela, who smiled back at him with all the confidence in the world. "I will keep them safe," she said with no hint of doubt. He believed her.

Nodding his approval, and with a quick wave to the girls, the Doctor stood back as he watched them go. He watched Romana out of the corner of his eye as she kept her tight smile in place until they were gone. Then she turned her attention to him.

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?" the Doctor asked, following a step behind as the four of them headed for the opposite door.

"To the council chambers," Romana answered. "You need to be formally briefed."

*X*X*X*

"You're different from the rest of them."

Leela glanced over her shoulder, at the girl who'd spoken to her. Finding her way past the shyness, she was walking comfortably now, holding to her mother's hand as they stepped out of the corridor and into the pristine, nearly-empty walkway outside. The girls were both surveying their surroundings with interest, but the older of the two was the one who'd spoken.

"Why do you say that?" Leela asked.

"Well, you dress different, for one. You're not wearing that big thing on your head."

Leela snorted with laughter. "I would _never _wear that thing."

The girl's mother smiled knowingly, but said nothing as the child continued. "You talk different, too. And you carry a knife instead of a gun. Are you human? Like me?"

"I am a warrior of the Sevateem."

"Where's that?"

"It is a very long way from here."

"How did you end up on Gallifrey?"

"I travelled with the Doctor."

"My father."

Leela hesitated. It was still very odd to think that these were the Doctor's children. "Yes," she answered. "Your father."

"So why did you stay here?" the younger girl asked, eyeing her curiously.

"I fell in love," she answered. "My late husband was a commander in the chancellery guard."

"How did he die?"

"Julia, that's very rude," Charley corrected, saving Leela the explanation. She looked up and smiled her apology. Leela smiled back.

"Do you like it here?" India asked. "Is that why you stay, even though your husband is dead?"

"No," Leela answered firmly. "That is not why I stay."

"Then why?" Julia asked. "You're a grown up. Why live somewhere you don't want to live?"

"Because Romana is my friend. And she has asked me to stay."

"For how long?"

"I do not know. For as long as she needs me, I suspect."

"Do you _have _to stay?"

Leela gave the child a curious look. "You ask very hard questions."

"I'm sorry about that," Charley offered, sympathetically. "I would have liked a little more time to answer some of their questions before we came, but the Doctor said it was urgent."

"Why did you come?"

"Well, he could hardly turn down a request for help."

"No. I know why the Doctor came. But why did you? This world is no place for children."

Charley paused for a moment before answering with a soft smile. "I suppose I came for the same reason you stayed."

Leela was quiet for a moment, nodding slowly as she continued walking a bit more slowly. "I hope that you will not regret that decision when it is over."

***X*X*X***

"So. An urgent summons and a formal briefing in council chambers with Lady Romana herself presiding," the Doctor said as he followed the procession through the hallways. "I'm impressed. Normally you lot just lay a trap and throw someone at me to bark orders. I don't think I've ever been formally briefed by the High Council in all my lives! Well, except when they decided it was in the best interest of Gallifrey to execute me."

"It's too bad they didn't succeed," Narvin muttered under his breath.

The Doctor cast a smirk in his general direction. "Oh, but think of all the fun the CIA would've missed out on over the years, recruiting me against my will for dangerous assignments, manipulating me to carry out your dirty work. If I recall, it was you lot who used your friendly persuasion to drag me into the Divergent Universe, at least initially."

"To be fair, that was actually President Romana," Narvin answered.

"And it was not my idea for you to stay there for twenty years," Romana clarified.

"Twenty years? Was it really that long? Hard to tell when I was stripped of my senses, trapped in a living hell with no time."

"We didn't force that on you, Doctor," Romana said. "It was your decision to take such drastic measures."

"Well, what other option wasthere? Allow the continued risk of anti-time to potentially exist in this universe?"

Narvin scoffed. "You were well enough able to come back when it suited you. I suppose you heroically defeated the enemy and secured a happy ending for all."

"As a matter of fact, I did. Would you like to hear how I did it?"

"Not particularly."

"Ah, it's just as well, then, I hardly think there would be time. Though remind me at some point, we could have a truly fascinating discussion about your hero Rassilon over afternoon tea."

"I'm afraid the current situation is a bit more pressing, Doctor," Braxiatel said flatly, preempting the indignant outburst over such casual, blasphemous use of Rassilon's name.

"I'm sure it is." He smiled as he followed them down the hallway, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder before slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "And to tell you the truth, I'm rather looking forward to this oh-so-mysterious formal briefing. I can't wait to hear what all the fuss is about."


	6. Chapter Five - Briefing

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Briefing**

The Doctor stepped inside of the Council chambers with some trepidation. But he kept it well under wraps, hidden beneath a smile and a calm exterior that he knew would suit him well in this environment. These were Time Lords; they prided themselves on control and stuffy stoicism. Eyes scanning over the members of the Council who were already present around the table, the Doctor could identify them by their gaudy, colorful robes, if not their names. He knew who was who before introductions were made. As a matter of principle, he chose to appear more interested in the decor.

"You've repainted," he observed with a smile in Romana's direction. "How nice."

"You're no doubt familiar with Inquisitor Darkel," Braxiatel said as the woman stood and nodded in greeting.

"Of course," the Doctor answered calmly, turning his smile to the woman who was all too familiar to him. "Hard to forget the Inquisitor who presides over your trial for genocide."

He could _feel _Romana's cringe.

"This is Castellan Olivet..."

"Hello."

"Matrix Coordinator, Councilor Marstis..."

"Yes, good to see you again."

"And Minister of Interplanetary Relations, Councilor Panteral..."

"Interplanetary Relations - does that include allied _and _hostile civilizations, all rolled up into one? My, you must certainly stay busy."

Romana interrupted with an explanation before anyone had the opportunity to get indignant. "The head of both the Celestial Preservation Agency _and_ the CIA report directly to Councilor Panteral."

"The Celestial Preservation Agency? Oh, so you're the public relations department! What a pleasure to meet you; I've heard all about what a wonderful place Gallifrey is. Nothing bad ever seems to happen here! The Time Lords are the most brilliant and blameless race ever to exist."

Councilor Panteral frowned, and answered dryly. "Yes. Quite."

"And you, by the look of it, seem to have worked your way up to the position of High Chancellor," the Doctor observed, looking Braxiatel up and down.

"Indeed," he answered flatly. "Sit down."

"Well, if I'm sitting, I guess that means I'm not on trial."

"Please, Doctor," Inquisitor Darkel said coolly. "Now is not the time for your witty retorts."

He cast a smile in her direction, but his attention was far more directed at Romana. He was making her regret not having a private word with him before they'd stepped into this room. If they'd had that quiet word, he probably would have heard her politely _begging _him to keep a civil tongue if her expression now was any indication. Out of consideration for her wishes, unspoken though they remained, he decided he would try and make a point of being polite. After all, he'd come here of his own accord.

His gaze lingered on the chancellery guard posted just inside the door as he settled into his chair, then over the somber expressions of the figures seated around the table. "Alright, so here we are," he said politely, folding his hands. "Meeting is called to order and all of that. Good! Would anyone care to explain to me what I'm doing here?"

"You're here at my personal request," Romana said as she sat forward. "To act as an advisor in the situation that lies before us."

"Well, that's impressively cryptic."

"Gallifrey is under attack," Braxiatel said flatly.

He paused only for a moment, reading the seriousness in the man's eyes before he continued cautiously. "What does that have to do with me?" He cast a glance at Romana, but she didn't immediately respond. "I should think you'd become accustomed to that sort of thing by now. At least over the past few centuries. Rumor has it that the Time Lords have been pretty active on the battlefield as of late - both temporally and otherwise."

"Recent changes in interplanetary policy have made us more vulnerable to terrorist actions and infiltration attempts," Castellan Olivet said plainly. "That much is true."

"In the end," Romana interjected, "the benefits of improved relations with other civilized planets - particularly those which already possessed their own means of time travel - have far outweighed the potential threat. But this is hardly a terrorist attack."

"Well, come on then," the Doctor pressed, "don't be shy. What sort of attack is it?"

"As we speak," Narvin answered, "there are approximately two hundred thousand enemy ships on their way to Gallifrey. The number increases exponentially with every day that passes."

The Doctor raised a brow. The members of the Council, seated around the table, were studying him as if they were awaiting a reaction. He frowned. "Since when does the Coordinator of the CIA sit on the High Council?"

Narvin's jaw tightened. "Since when does a common criminal?"

"Gentlemen, _please_!" Romana interrupted, stopping the argument before it had a chance to escalate. "This is _not _the time for petty bickering!"

"Well, am I supposed to gasp in horror?" the Doctor demanded, glancing first at her and then around the table. "Granted, two hundred thousand ships is an impressive fleet and I wish you the best of luck in your diplomatic relations. But if you're anticipating a war, which I seem to get the distinct impression you are, I'm hardly your greatest asset. So what is it you want from me?"

An exchange of glances, but still there was only silence, as if nobody wanted to answer. The Doctor's frown deepened. Even Romana was hesitating, and that was most unlike her. He'd never known her to have any trouble at all in speaking her mind.

"Alright, if nobody wants to tell me, perhaps I can guess." He sat back and folded his hands on his lap. "You're clearly afraid of them, so it's an advanced species. You're not getting much support from your allies, or they would be represented here. And you're calling _me_ for consultation, probably because I know them well. At least, I can't think of any other reason why I would be here. So who fits that description? Most species in the known universe wouldn't dare; those who would have no interest in us. So that leaves... Sontarans? No, certainly not a second time. Daleks? Now, _they _would try and try again."

He was watching for the reaction. And he got it. A slight flinch from Darkel, an intensified glare from Narvin, a tiny nod from Romana.

"Your deductive reasoning is flawless, Doctor," Braxiatel said evenly. "As usual."

"So the Daleks believe they can successfully invade Gallifrey."

"The Daleks believe they will _conquer_ Gallifrey," Castellan Olivet corrected. "And all of time."

"Well, of course they do. They're Daleks; that's nothing new." He paused. "Frankly, I don't know what concerns me more, that they would be stupid enough to try it - again - or that you would be so afraid. Especially if you know they're coming. That leaves them without even the element of surprise."

"Please remember, Doctor, that the Daleks have successfully invaded Gallifrey before," Councilor Marstis reminded him.

"Well, yes. Hence the 'again'. But in that instance they caught us completely off guard and _still _didn't manage to achieve their goal."

"They landed only one ship on this planet then. Now they have two hundred thousand."

"And we have foreknowledge of their coming. What difference does it make if they have one ship or a million? If they can't _land _then all they could possibly do is cut off your access to the rest of the universe. In which case you'd simply blaze a new trail through a different part of the Vortex and go around them, so why the concerned expressions and shifting eyes?"

He kept one eye on Romana even as he addressed them all - on her serious look. He had always known her to take control of the conversation, and to lay all the cards on the table. Her uncharacteristic silence unnerved him slightly. She knew the Daleks at least as well as he did; she'd spent twenty years as their prisoner. Her concern was to be expected, at least at a base level. But not to this extent.

"What are you not telling me?" he demanded. "Don't get me wrong; the Daleks are certainly a formidable opponent. I'm hardly suggesting we should invite them over for tea. But they're smart. They won't engage in a battle they have no chance of winning."

"Which is precisely what concerns us, Doctor," Narvin answered. "We are assuming that those two hundred thousand ships are full of Daleks. New Daleks, specially engineered for the upcoming war."

"I dare you to show me a Dalek that was _not _specially engineered for war."

"Our sources suggest that for the past ten years, the Daleks have been rebuilding their armies using slave labor to handle the cells of existing Daleks."

The Doctor sighed. "I know how the Daleks operate, Narvin. I hardly need your secret spies to tell me that." He glanced again around the table. "What I wouldn't mind hearing is the reason why we're all here. You moved the entire planet onto its very own dimensional plane of existence specifically so that you would never again have to worry about this sort of thing. Nothing gets anywhere near Gallifrey except through the Vortex - a vortex _you _control, not them. And even if their technology did somehow supersede all known projections and they did somehow manage to override your safeguards, any unauthorized ship that tries to cross Gallifrey's transduction barrier will be incinerated. Why are we even having this discussion?"

"Perhaps you're right, Doctor," Romana said. "But the purpose of this meeting - and those to follow in the upcoming days - is to determine what our plan of action shall be if, in fact, they do cross onto our plane."

"No, that's not good enough."

Romana blinked, startled by the opposition. The Doctor frowned deeply at her.

"You've smoothed out any number of conflicts, engaged a half dozen petty wars in the past hundred years alone. Gallifrey is fortified beyond reason. And now you're calling me, of all people, to aid you in your military defense? Romana, you know that I have very little interest in politics. And even less in the prospect of war."

"You would not lend your support to defend your own people?" Narvin asked, amused.

"That depends on what you're asking me to do. I certainly have no great love for the Daleks. But if you're looking to conscript me as a soldier, I'm afraid you may be in for an unpleasant surprise."

"How so?"

"Let's just say I'll do you very little good on the front line of battle."

"That's not why you're here," Romana interrupted, before Narvin could reply. "Although I dare say, your methods were rather effective against them the last time they invaded Gallifrey."

"As were yours." The Doctor focused on her again. "Which is why I have the utmost faith in you. So what does any of this have to do with me? If you want my help - for whatever it's worth - you might as well tell me what you're asking me to do. _Plainly_. Because you're not just going to string me along and use the threat of the Daleks to keep me on-call for whatever this is _really _about."

"And just what do you think this is about?" Narvin demanded.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," the Doctor answered with a slight chuckle. "If what you say is true, there's no doubt the Daleks are planning an invasion. Two hundred thousand ships will hold twenty millionDaleks at _least_. Perhaps as many as forty million. I can see how you wouldn't want to take any chances with those kind of numbers. But what does that have to do with _me_?"

"Your involvement may be critical to the outcome," Romana finally said.

"Madame President..."

The tone of Braxiatel's voice was a warning, but Romana already had the Doctor's full attention. His eyes narrowed at her as he asked quickly, "Why do you say that?"

The silence in the room stretched, so thick he could've cut it with a knife. Finally, with serious eyes locked on his, Romana made her full admission. "Your involvement in this matter was prophesied by the Visionary. I was honoring his last request when I sent for you."

The Doctor's face fell, and the rock that settled in the pit of his stomach made him feel nauseated all of a sudden. "The Visionary," he repeated, his voice tight. "You called me here because of something the Visionary told you?"

"His last words were a warning. About a war that would kill billions. And he told me that when it began - precisely when he said it would - that I was to call you."

"Well, in that case, it makes this all very simple."

"Does it?"

"Yes."

The Doctor stood, his chair scraping the floor as he pushed it back. He didn't want to hear any more. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to be anywhere near this place, or those words, or these people. Right now, all he wanted was to get out of this room and off of this planet.

"I'm sorry. But I can't help you."


	7. Chapter Six - A Tool to be Used

**CHAPTER SIX**

**A Tool to be Used**

"Doctor!" Charley was on her feet instantly as he stepped in through the front door of Lady Modena's neatly kept house. The look on his face was one she'd not seen in a very long time, and had hoped never to see again. "What's the matter? What happened?"

"We're leaving," he said firmly.

"Leaving?" Startled and confused, she searched him for answers. "But why?"

"Where are the girls?"

"I... they're in the back yard with Leela and her metal dog. Your mother wasn't here when we -"

"Get them. We need to get out of here now."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get your things."

"But -"

"_Now_!" He took a few steps to the hallway and called towards the back door. "Leela! Bring my children to me!"

Charley was confused, and a bit frightened by his tone. He so rarely raised his voice - especially towards her - that she'd almost forgotten how intimidating he could be when he was angry. Instinct told her to simply obey; she trusted him completely, after all. But he wasn't making any sense. She was only here in the first place because he'd asked her to be.

"Don't you even want to say hello to -"

"No, there is no time!" he yelled as he spun toward her. She jumped and took an instinctive step back from the fire in his eyes. She knew he would never harm her, but she couldn't help but flinch. She knew as well as anyone what he was capable of...

Shutting his eyes hard, he drew in a deep, slow breath, and let it out smoothly, regaining his self-control. "Charley, listen to me. I have to get you home. No." He reconsidered quickly. "No, not home. Somewhere far away. Somewhere _very _far away."

Her fear of his reaction was easily laid aside. The fear of what he meant with those words ran much deeper. "Doctor, what is this about?"

"I can't talk about -"

"_Tell _me!" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring him down and hoping her voice was much surer than it sounded to her own ears. "It's one thing to put the two of us in danger without explaining anything. That's all well and good. But we're not alone here. If my children are in danger, you're _going _to tell me why."

He growled under his breath. "Charley, listen to me. I am not putting you in danger. I am getting you _out _of danger. You and the girls. It was a mistake to bring you here and right now, there's no time for questions. You're simply going to have to trust me. Is that really so hard?"

The back door opened, and he heard the patter of bare feet on the tile floor as the girls ran inside. Relieved, he turned to greet them. "Gather your things, girls, it's time to go."

"Oh, Daddy, we just got here!"

"Don't _argue _with me, Julia; do it now!"

The little girl startled at the tone, and her shoulders slumped as she turned away and walked, dejected, toward the bedroom where she'd set her backpack.

"I thought you came to help," Charley said quietly.

"And I found out that I can't. Charley, please." He held her shoulders as he drew closer, eyes dark and intense on hers. "If you never listen to me ever again, listen to me now. Don't ask questions, just go. With me. Right now. Away from here. Please."

She didn't understand. But the urgency in his voice was more than enough to convince her. Even if she knew nothing else, she knew him. She'd trusted him blindly too many times to think that he would ever do anything to her detriment. And if he was willing to rush the girls away without even taking the time to reassure them that they'd done nothing wrong, he had a very good reason.

Finally, still confused, she nodded. "Alright. Alright, Doctor. I'll help India get her things."

His sigh of relief was deep and audible. "Thank you."

As she passed Leela, she noticed the sad look in her eyes as she studied the Doctor. Charley continued down the hallway, but she could still hear Leela's voice as she said, simply and calmly, "I am glad that you are leaving, Doctor. Your children should not be here for this."

*X*X*X*

"That could have been smoother," Braxiatel said quietly, pacing behind the chair nearest to Romana. The other members of the High Council had left, but Romana had remained behind, holding her head in her hands, long after the Doctor had stormed out of the room.

"I know," she answered. "And it's not as if I didn't know full well how he felt about the Visionary."

"I don't think it was a personal thing. He hated the role, not the man. Too much superstition in prophecy for his liking, I suspect."

"He hated the threat," Romana corrected.

Braxiatel raised a brow. "What threat?"

"The Visionary is present at initiation ceremonies. He knew things about the Doctor that no one else did."

"Ah, yes. The great secret." Braxiatel actually chuckled. "You know, I always thought it was some sort of attention-getting exercise, the way he treated his identity. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that he really _believes _all of that."

"All of what?" Romana asked, raising a brow.

"He can vow never to speak his name. But it, like every other piece of information contained in the Visionary's mind at the point of death, would have been deposited into the Matrix. He can't really hide it."

Romana looked away. "Information is easily corruptible, Braxiatel. Or deleted. That sort of tampering wouldn't harm the Doctor's conscience."

"Yes, that's true." Braxiatel paused. "And you no doubt thought of this before allowing him to spend several days inside of the Matrix databanks."

"Are you implying something?" Romana challenged.

"Nothing at all, Madame President. I suppose you could say I'm playing devil's advocate."

"I'm hardly in the mood for playing games."

"I don't blame you."

Romana didn't answer. Braxiatel was quiet for a long moment before he continued, rerouting the discussion to the inevitable point.

"So, Madame President, what now?"

He wasn't really looking for an answer. Only an acknowledgment. There was only one course of action. Leaning forward again, the President of Gallifrey cradled her head in her hands and let the silence stretch.

"You know he cannot be allowed to leave Gallifrey," Braxiatel finally said.

"Yes, I know." She breathed deep, let it out slow, and sat up straighter. "But locking him out of his Tardis and holding his family hostage is _not _going to get us the response we're looking for."

"You have another suggestion?"

"I need time."

"He's not going to give you that. He's probably already on his way back by now, with his humans."

Romana shut her eyes. "His _family_, Braxiatel; is that so hard?"

"Is there a difference?"

"There is to him."

"Madame President..." He sighed, and sat down beside her. "I advise strongly against allowing your personal feelings for the Doctor to interfere in your good judgment."

When she opened her eyes again, it was with a glare in his direction. "What do you take me for, Brax?" she shot.

"I know how you feel about him, but even before we knew of the potential threat he and his Tardis pose to Gallifrey -"

"How I feel about him," Romana interrupted, her glare intensifying. "Tell me, Brax. How do I feel about him? In your own words, please."

He hesitated a moment, and sat up straighter again. "I would say you consider him a friend and you trust him to a fault. The rest of the Council would say considerably more."

Jaw tightening at the sting of those words, she looked away.

"You bear his imprint, Romana; that is no small thing."

She growled as she rolled her eyes again. "Oh, and there it is. How many times do we have to go through this, Braxiatel? That was _ages _ago!"

"For him, perhaps."

"It's been three hundredyears for me! At what point am I allowed to move past the decisions I made when I was practically a child!"

"I advised you to willfully regenerate before your run for presidency. Had you done so, the Council would have been none-the-wiser about your past... indiscretions. But you chose to retain that body."

"As was my right!"

"I'm not disputing that, Madame President, but when you made that decision, you created a problem for yourself that will not easily go away. Even if you regenerated now and they could no longer see it on your person, they would not forget it. Your relationship with the Doctor will _always _be a matter of concern. And more so when the Council feels that it is interfering with your better judgment."

She covered her eyes again. "Enough, Braxiatel. I have heard enough."

"It's better you hear it from me than from those who will see you deposed at their first opportunity, regardless of how you handle the Daleks."

She hesitated for a moment, considering the possibility that this invasion may well signal the end of her political career. If the Visionary was to be believed, it signaled significantly more than that. But in any case, Braxiatel had a point. She had been at odds with the Council almost from the start, each of them in different ways and some more than others. If not for the support of the people, which would surely suffer if the Daleks invaded Gallifrey, she had no doubt that they would seek to replace her at their first opportunity.

"What would you have me do?" she asked.

"For a start, publicly acknowledge his faults. He is guiltier than any other Time Lord in all of history for violation of the Non-Interference Policy."

"So am I, Chancellor Braxiatel, and so are you!"

"His indiscretions have been public. He nearly destroyed the Web of Time with that Earth woman."

"And fixed it!"

"And it was less than two centuries since he was standing trial for genocide."

"Based upon false testimony!"

"From his own secondary subconscious!"

"That's hardly -"

"Do you wish to argue with me, Romana?" Brax interrupted. "Because I will gladly concede to save us both the frustration. But that doesn't mean you are making any _less _of a mistake."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why would you concede? If at any time, Braxiatel, you feel that I'm making a bad decision -"

"Then I will confront you in private just as I'm doing now."

She swallowed hard as she kept her gaze steady on his.

"Madame President, as your advisor I care _only _about you and the decisions you make for Gallifrey. So regardless of what I think about him, or your past relationship with him, and regardless of what _you _think about it, I am telling you for a certainty that you cannot be seen to rely on the Doctor. If you wish to rely on him and if you insist on doing so, then do it. Quietly. Do not let the Council see you doing it. Because their faith in him was shaky _before _they learned of the potential threat he poses now."

Romana stared at him for a long moment, jaw tight, but eyes pained. She was good at controlling her emotions. She had perfected the art long ago. Still, she had some trouble swallowing the lump in her throat before she was able to answer him.

"What would you have me do? He's here now. He's involved. There's no changing that."

"Do not give him special concessions in ways that will cause the Council's faith in you to waver."

"What special concessions? What is it you think I'm going to do?"

"And admit his faults," Braxiatel continued, ignoring the question. "Ask him to do the same."

Romana rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's the Doctor. He doesn't give a damn what the Council thinks about him. I hardly think he's going to beg for their understanding or even be the slightest bit willing to help when he discovers he's a prisoner here."

Braxiatel smiled. "Now it's _you_ who's forgetting who we're talking about."

She looked back at him, her expression pained.

"He will help. It's either that or sit in the house of Lady Modena and wait for the Daleks to invade."

"Do you really think you could _force_ him to remain on Gallifrey? Nobody rolled out a red carpet for him the firsttime he left."

"But now he has his family to think about."

"All the more reason for him to flee."

"Not if they're kept under guard."

Romana flinched.

"And that, Madame President, is where you must consider what sort of concessions you are willing to make. Whatever you feel for him, the Council must believe that the Doctor is a valuable tool to be used even if he is not a man to be trusted. And that he is a tool you can control, whether or not that is true."

She drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts before she finally spoke, low and calm. "I will take your advice into consideration, Chancellor."

He remained still for a moment longer, then lowered his eyes. He looked for a moment like he may have more to say. But he didn't speak. Instead, he stood and quietly left the room, closing the doors behind him.


End file.
